


what's funny

by msscribe_stan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Harry Potter Bashing, Homophobia, Sexism, Slurs, Slut Shaming, Song Lyrics, Unhappy Ending, Unhappy marriage, bo burnham - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:41:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23898418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msscribe_stan/pseuds/msscribe_stan
Summary: Based of a few of the lyric's of Bo Burnham's 'WHATS FUNNY'. Harry sucks and multiple slurs are used throughout.Harry Potter hates his job.He hates his life.He hates his kids.He hates his wife.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter
Kudos: 15





	what's funny

**I HATE MY JOB**

Harry Potter, yet again, was working late into a Friday night at the Ministry of Magic's London headquarters. Everyone else had already finished working for the night, eager to return home to their families. Potter instead was sipping a bottle of bourbon while staring intently at the single sentence he had written about the case he was 'working on'. He was bullshitting no one in his claims of 'work' as all his paperwork was mediocre at best. It was wildly regarded that if it was not his status as 'The Boy Who Lived' he would've been fired a very long time ago. Potter heard all the whispers about him. He was perfectly aware that everyone hated him. He hated them back with even more conviction. If he was not so disgusted by their mere presence he would've given them all a piece of his mind a long time ago.

He had received a private office when he joined the auror program, which he still had due to no one wishing to be in the same room as him. He took another sip from his beer and began to add to his report, intentionally leaving out key details so some intern would fix it after seeing he'd written it. His boss seemed to intentionally give him very easy tasks so when he screwed up, little damage was done. His boss was a young man with a frustratingly upbeat attitude and the fashion sense of a toddler with only bright orange and yellow crayons. Potter hated the man the moment he met him. He never called the man his given name, only "sir" to his face and "fucking faggot" in his head. The man was not hiding his pouf nature, with the obnoxious rainbow robes he'd worn on multiple occasions and the way his voice sounded like a teenage girl's. Potter had attempted to get the man fired with Shaklebolt, but was told by the idiot of the man that it would be 'discrimination' but with a manor that disgustingly flamboyant Harry thought he _deserved_ to be discriminated against.

Potter threw the pen down in frustration. His mind was swirling with various insults to call his coworkers, helped partially by the rising blood alcohol levels. He elected to pack up for the night and head to a liquor store. He had little to bring with him, so it only took him a few minutes to put his parchment and quill away. He left the office through the public exit, in order to avoid returning home to his whore of a wife and daughter.

**I HATE MY LIFE**

It was currently pouring down rain, as it often does in London. Potter was too lazy to conjure an umbrella as he lazily made his way through the city, purposely going through back alleys in the hopes some dumb fucker would kill him. To his dismay, no such dumb fucker did. He pulled out a fag and lit it, bringing it to his face as he attempted to bring some calm to his life. There were light shouts in the distance, cars honking and heavy dub-step coming from some nightclubs, but Potter blocked those out as he accidentley stepped in a puddle.   
'Mother fucker", he swore under his breath as he continued walking, now even more wet. Some homeless person looked at him briefly, so Harry flipped him off. He had no interest in encouraging laziness. The rain had started to put out his fag. In frustration, he through it into the puddle and continued walking. It was a cold night, even more so without the cigarette to help warm him up.


End file.
